Drink Deep - Chloe Neill [60]
On the way back up, I made a quick pit stop in the brownstone’s kitchen, pulling open the long, flat drawer that housed my chocolate collection. I was a little saddened to discover the bulk of it—if not all of it—was still in there. I wanted to know Mallory still snuck chocolate after a return from the bar or a gym session, or had used the high-cocoa bars to make her famous truffle cupcakes. Instead, the drawer was frozen in time, a bit of me she and Catcher hadn’t yet managed to assimilate into their lives.
Well, if they weren’t going to eat it, I would. I rummaged through to find a few special treats—famous brownies special-ordered from a New York bakery, a favorite mini dark chocolate bar, and a novelty bar filled with one of my favorite cereals—and stuffed them into the pockets of my jacket. Given Frank’s House ban on all things delicious, I was going to need them.
My pockets full, I closed the drawer again and walked back to the front door. Catcher was still on the couch, frowning at what looked to be another Lifetime movie.
“What’s the appeal?” I wondered aloud, watching a montage of a woman getting a makeover with girlfriends, probably after some ridiculously bad breakup.
“Normalcy,” he said. “The stories are melodramatic, sure, but the problems are profane. They’re about love and illness and money and nasty neighbors and creepy ex-boyfriends.”
“They aren’t about magic and irritating vampires and awful politicians?”
“Precisely.”
I nodded in understanding. “I pulled some stuff from the chocolate drawer. But I don’t think you’ll miss it. Hey, have you noticed anything weird about Mallory? She seems, I don’t know, really focused. And not really in a good way.”
“She’s fine,” was all he said. I waited for more, but got nothing but thick tension and a little peppery magic. He may have verbally disagreed with me, but there was nothing in his body language that said he was okay with her behavior.
“You sure about that? Have you talked to Mallory about Simon? About what he’s having her do? I get the sense she’s doing things she’s not comfortable with.”
“This isn’t exactly your area of expertise.”
There was a sharpness in his voice I hadn’t expected to hear. Catcher may have been gruff, but he was also usually patient about supernatural issues.
“True,” I allowed. “But I do know Mallory. And I know when she’s avoiding something.”
“You think I don’t know her?”
“Of course you know her. I just know her in a different way than you do.”
Ever so slowly, he slid me a skewering glance. “What goes on in this house between us isn’t exactly your business, is it?”
I blinked from the sting, but decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. After all, he’d just lost his job and his girlfriend was a giant stressball.
“Okay,” I said, hand on the doorknob. “Fine. You guys have a good night.”
“Merit.”
I looked back.
“Before you go . . .” He began, then wet his lips and looked away. It wasn’t often that I’d seen him uncomfortable about voicing an opinion, and that made me nervous. “I’ve heard you’ve been spending time with Jonah lately. I have to admit: I’m not thrilled about it.”
How did word travel so fast? This was like being in high school all over again. “We’re working together,” I said. “He’s my backup.”
“Is that all?”
I gave back the same doubtful expression he’d offered me. “Is that all?”
“I know it wasn’t always obvious, but Ethan and I were close.”
“I could say the same thing.”
“And are you respecting his memory?”
The question was as brutal as a slap, and as surprising as it was harsh. “Not that it’s any of your business, but yes, I am. And regardless, I have a right to live my life even if he’s not here.”
My heart pounded with adrenaline and irritation and . . . hurt. This was Catcher, my best friend